I brew a cup of coffee and peek out the window to the front porch. I’m still grateful people have decided I’m not really worth noticing, even in this small town. Grabbing one of Gran’s hand-knitted afghans, I go out onto the front porch and curl up in the rocking chair.
It’s dawn, still cold enough out that steam is rising off the pond across the road. There’s a peacefulness here that doesn’t exist anywhere else.
Crey’s right; I’m not ready to sell this house. I may not make it back here as often as I’d like, but having this place as my haven seems imperative. Coming back to my roots was the right choice. No matter how many fans may know my name, and no matter how crazy life may get, I’m just a simple girl from Gold Haven, Kentucky.
And now, after coming home and seeing this place through my slightly jaded eyes—and through Creighton’s eyes—I’m okay with being that girl. Just like everyone else, I’m the sum total of my experiences, and I wouldn’t be where I am today, married to the man I’m crazy in love with, if I didn’t walk the path that was set out in front of me.
As I rock in the chair on Gran’s porch and watch the sunrise paint the sky, I can’t help but be grateful for the opportunities I’ve been given. Memories of hardships fade away, overshadowed by all the goodness.
A while later my cell phone rings from inside the house, interrupting my solitude and general contentment with the world. Levering myself off the chair, I cross the porch and push open the door to grab it off the counter and answer it.
Obviously, I’m hoping it’s Crey. But it’s not—it’s Tana.
“Hey, girl, what’s going on?” I haven’t talked to her since I told her why I left New York the second time just before I headed to Gold Haven.
“Have you seen the papers or the gossip sites today?”
My stomach drops to my feet. “I’m not going to like what you have to say, am I?”
“Oh shit. You haven’t.”
“Nope. No tabloids on my front porch here.” I swallow back the rising apprehension and drop into a chair. “How bad is it?”
“It’s pretty bad, babe. Your mama sold a tell-all exclusive to Yapper that they posted about ten minutes ago. And this morning, the news also broke about your husband being sued by his own shareholders for corporate fraud or something like that. That was in the Wall Street Journal, not Yapper, but I didn’t know about it until I read the Yapper article and they linked to it. Your names are on everyone’s lips today.”
“What?”
I’m glad I’m not holding my coffee cup any longer. It would be shattered on the floor right now.
“You know how they say no publicity is bad publicity? Well, today let’s really hope that’s true for your sake.”
I shove out of the chair and stride to Gran’s bedroom, and sure enough, all of Mama’s stuff is gone. Stumbling back against the warped oak door, I slide down it and drop my head between my knees. My hand shakes so much, I can barely hold the phone to my ear.
“What did she say?” I whisper.
Disappointment, disgust, and anger well up inside me, my stomach twisting and flopping. I gave her the benefit of the doubt like the sucker I am. What was I thinking?
Tana sounds almost hesitant as she speaks. “I think Creighton probably got the worst of it. I had no idea he was married in college. The whole thing was buried. Rumor has it the girl faked a pregnancy to snag him, and then when she realized he wasn’t getting a dime from his uncle, pretended to lose the baby. Everything about you just mostly makes you sound like a girl crazy in love with her husband.”
The sick feeling multiplies as my neck and cheeks grow hot. I’m responsible for Creighton’s personal business being spread all over the pages of a rag—personal business I knew nothing about.
Annika was pregnant? Or at least pretended to be? He left that out, along with the fact that he was going to get sued. Did he know that was coming? I remember the tense set of his shoulders when he answered the call from Cannon. He must have known. But why didn’t he share that with me?
“Tell me about Creighton getting sued.”
“You really didn’t know?”
Tana’s question comes out as shocked, and a small sliver of me can’t help but wonder what else Crey may not be telling me. I hate that kernel of doubt.
I bolt up off the floor, and begin pacing the room. “Please, Tana? I wouldn’t be asking you if I knew.”
“Shit. And here I thought you were just the fucking queen of keeping secrets.”
“What are you talking about?”
My crazy feelings crash into each other like cars at a malfunctioning stoplight. Frustration wins out, and I want to reach through the phone and shake it out of her.
“He bought Homegrown fucking Records, Holly. For you.”
Blood rushes through my ears, deafening me.
“What?” I whisper.
“Holy fuck, you really didn’t know?”
“No, I didn’t know.” My voice is getting louder as the shock turns to confusion and disbelief.
“Shit,” she whispers. “That’s kinda huge. How could he not tell you?”
I drop my head back against the wall.
“What else hasn’t he told me?” I mumble.